


between the woods and frozen lake.

by badaltin



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bad Days, Depression, Established Relationship, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, Yuri Plisetsky-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 16:31:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13104129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badaltin/pseuds/badaltin
Summary: “Hey.” He presses the word into Yuri’s flesh with warm lips, worrying it into remembrance. “I’m here. I’m right here. What is it?”What is it this time? What is making you feel this way? What is it that you want from me? How can I help you? Will you let me help you?“It’s just, ugh.” Yuri sniffs wetly, saliva stringing between his teeth like gossamer spider’s thread. “It’s stupid.”.......Yuri has a bad day; Otabek is there to help.





	between the woods and frozen lake.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Muspell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muspell/gifts).



> I sat on this for an actual year - not even exaggerating. At first I spat it out as a vent piece, but then... I kinda liked it. Thanks to @Muspell for kicking my ass into gear and making me upload this. 
> 
> Enjoy!

He's in his room.

 

There's plenty of work to be done, preparing for the disgusting couple's wedding, but his fingers were moving like sewing needles and the click click clicking of metal against materials too thick for him to stitch was hollowing out the channels of his inner ears and expanding them beyond the point of human tolerance.

 

In his room, though, the metallic noises vacate. The air stops whirring so vigorously, decompressing the tight coils the molecules spin on _just enough_ to lessen the pressure in Yuri's ears. And gradually, the ringing, pricking static settles into nothingness, disappears into the marrow of his bones. It leaves, quiet and subtle, like a lone diver slipping into a moonlit pool with as little disturbance as possible.

 

Sometimes, on the ice, Yuri skates to that visage. Lust for that grace burns like a hot rock in the pit of his constricting stomach. The perfect performance: without a splash, a few lapping waves, and then only the moon reflected on the mirror surface of water. So beautiful it could only have been imagined, with no trace of evidence but memory.

 

A flawless performance into faultless oblivion. Human error down, down, down into nothingness.

 

Yuri sinks into his mattress, breaking down resistance between the confines of his body and the matter beneath him as best as he can. But it’s not good enough.

 

He just wants to bring human error down to zero percent. Not good enough; not close enough.

 

Someone knocks at his door, tap tap taps him back into existence, and Yuri’s heartbeat is an enormous presence in the room.

 

“Yura.”

 

_Beka._

 

Feet pad across the tatami mats in a steady rhythm Yuri knows better than his own. It’s like he was born with Otabek’s step imprinted within his own genetic make-up, a vital part of his being. Yuri knows his weight when he lays down on the bed, is acquainted with the shift and sudden dip of the mattress. He knows the craftsman callouses of Otabek’s fingers and palms when he gathers Yuri to his chest. The way his breath comes and ruffles the hair at the back of his neck is familiar to him in the most intimate way. Wind tumbling over a swaying countryside wheat field: it feels like remembering the sound of Otabek’s soul.

 

Otabek nuzzles into Yuri’s shoulder, curling close and fitting against him like a second skin. It’s warm, and comforting, and so, _so_ tender it breaks Yuri’s heart into so many thousands of pieces it runs like sand through his fingers.

 

“Beka,” he gasps. It’s pathetic, and needy, like a lamb bleating for its mother. It’s bad, everything’s bad, the whole goddamn planet is awful and too big and too much and he just wants someone to make it all go away. Otabek is good for that.

 

“Hey.” He presses the word into Yuri’s flesh with warm lips, worrying it into remembrance. “I’m here. I’m right here. What is it?”

 

_What is it this time? What is making you feel this way? What is it that you want from me? How can I help you? Will you let me help you?_

 

“It’s just, ugh.” Yuri sniffs wetly, saliva stringing between his teeth like gossamer spider’s thread. “It’s stupid.”

 

Otabek kisses Yuri’s nape in response, minutely tightening his hold. “It wouldn’t upset you if it were stupid.”

 

“Don’t bring logic into this.”

 

For a fraction of a moment, the Kazakh flickers a smile. And then, like the placid lake of Yuri’s vision, it smooths back into place. “Is it the wedding?”

 

 _Da- **dum**. Da- **dum**. Da- **dum**._ His pulse beats so thick in his ears it shakes the dust off his skull. “Yeah.” Yuri swallows around a tightly-woven mass of emotion in his throat. “Yeah, it’s the wedding.”

 

He doesn’t need to explain himself; Otabek already knows.

 

“Turn around.”

 

The world blurs into one long runny paint smear as Yuri flips himself over, static bubbling in his limbs like boiling water trying to reform itself into another state of being. _If only it was that easy_. Otabek is there, though, catching him with his endless eyes and Yuri wonders if they are all that tethers him to this room. If Yuri had the eyes of a soldier, then Otabek’s held vast mountain ranges within them. Dark and steady and massive.

 

Otabek cups Yuri’s face in his scratchy palms and dances his mouth feather-light over the blond’s closed eyelids. “You, Yuri Plisetsky,” he breathes, “make me happier than any man has any right to be.” The reverence with which he speaks is ground-breaking, earth-shattering; the world _has_ to be ending. Their faces are mere inches apart, and Yuri cannot escape the depth of Otabek’s affection. “You are more than worthy of that kind of love.”

 

Moisture collects on the bridge of Yuri’s nose and spills sideways down his cheek. There’s a hurricane in his chest, the sound of crashing waves coming out like a series of muffled sobs. He buries his head in the front of Otabek’s hoodie, the older boy holding him and riding it out all the while. It’s too much, all of it. How Otabek can just _say_ things like that, like it costs him _nothing_ to do so. Apologies and confessions have to be wrenched clawing and biting out of Yuri. Funny how, for what little he speaks, Otabek is the one able to voice the important things.

 

“I’ve got you.”

 

 _I’ve got you_ , he says, and Yuri knows in his heart that it’s the truth.

 

_I’ve got you._

_I’ve got you._

_Never let me go._

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you liked, please leave a comment - it really does make a difference to fic writers :)
> 
> Catch me on tumblr at [badaltin](http://badaltin.tumblr.com/)


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